Page 34 of House of Marionne

“Was there more . . . about my mom? She is okay, right? She should have met me here by now. But she was delayed for some reason.”

She pets my hands. “No news as of yet. But I will tell you if I hear anything. Rhea is an expert at not being found when she doesn’t want to be, you know that.”

She’s right. My chin hits my chest. “I just wish I could see her and explain myself.”

“Soon, I’m sure.” She tugs my head back up. “Today isn’t a day for frowning, dear granddaughter. Any itching?”

“No.”

“By tomorrow, I’d bet. Have you thought about if you’ll emerge silver or gold? There’s copper and rose gold that we see from time to time, but those are exceptionally rare these days.”

“I’ll just be happy to emerge at all.” Perhaps that was too honest.

“Do not fret, everyone comes to love their showing,” she says. “The magic chooses, that’s the beauty of emerging. Each diadem is unique to its wearer.” She strokes her own, its pearls glinting in the light. She lifts a teapot from a tray on the table and fills two cups and adds a splash of milk before handing me one.

“Quell?”

“Ma’am.”

“You say ‘thank you,’ dear, when someone hands you a cup.”

“Sorry, thank you.” I’ve never had tea before and certainly not in this fancy of a cup. And I am thankful. The warmth of the cup is a welcome salve; I can’t even sense my toushana anymore. I cup it with my hands like a bowl, and Grandmom grimaces. I rework my grip on the porcelain, tea sloshing over the sides. She takes an exasperated breath, fingering the hair at her hairline, as if watching my poor attempt is downright painful.

“Here.” She wraps her arms around me and separates my fingers, looping two through the hole of the cup handle. Warmth, not the magical kind but another, wraps around me. “Your thumb. Use it to balance.”

I try and the cup falters, but I tighten my grip and hold it still.

She curls my other fingers under the handle. “Very good.” She hands me a teaspoon and takes her seat. I wish Mom was here, the three of us, a family.

I note how Grandmom stirs her tea back and forth, not in circles, and I copy. My spoon tings the side of the cup and I cringe at my mistake. I try again, and the smile lines around her lips say she’s pleased.

Something shifts in me. It’s an odd feeling. A tightness that releases. My lips crack an unrestrained smile. Heat flushes my cheeks. Something as small and so simple as tea in my grandmother’s sitting room. Her showing me how to properly drink it. It’s so insignificant, and yet I feel like a mountain’s been moved. I have longed for this, in the most desperate way.

Mom should be here, too. And she isn’t. Because of my toushana.

“Now, before you go slurping it like a cow, remember to sip.” Grandmom demonstrates, slicing through my brooding. I lift straight up and take a sip, eager to do something right. She nods in approval. “But that’s not why you came early, is it? To drink tea and talk about etiquette. You have questions in your eyes, child, speak. If you’re going to draw attention to yourself, do so for good reason. Otherwise, mind your tongue.”

“I’d like to have a different mentor.”

“Ah, so Plume gave you your pair-up today?”

“He did, yeah.”

“Yes. It has an s. And you’re not pleased? Others work with Secundus. But Jordan has debuted. He’s trained under my direct guidance as a Ward of this House for the last three years, on and off Season. He knows his stuff.”

“He attacked me when we first met.”

“As he would anyone presumed to be trespassing. I do hope he’s apologized for that misunderstanding?”

“He has.”

She reclines.

“In class, Shelby was really helpful.”

“Shelby Duncan?” She sets her tea down on the tray and considers. Her gaze moves to the window and there’s much written in the lines that form on her face. “No, I don’t think that’s going to be possible. I want you to be happy here. But I can’t change your mentor.”

The more she says, the more I feel like invisible hands are wrapping around my throat.